


Worthy

by springsdandelion (writergirlie)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirlie/pseuds/springsdandelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss has pre-wedding jitters, and Peeta is there to reassure her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worthy

I’ve never been one to pay attention to superstitions. They seemed like an enormous waste of time when there were far more important things to worry about. But as I stand outside of Peeta’s back door, with my hand about to close around the knob, I can’t help but wonder if I’m tempting fate somehow, and suddenly, Effie’s voice comes to me, unbidden.

 

_Katniss! You know the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding!_

 

For a split second, I actually lose my nerve. I back away from the door, ready to turn on my heel and flee back into the darkness towards my house before Peeta realizes I was ever here, but I stop myself just as I step off the porch, feeling stupid for falling prey to some silly old wives’ tale that I know holds no power over me. And besides, when have Peeta and I ever done anything the conventional way?

 

It’s cool in the kitchen. He’s left the window cracked open, of course, and the oven wasn’t put to use today, with everything he had to do to get ready for the wedding tomorrow. I fight a shiver, but I’m not so sure that the temperature is entirely to blame for that. I call out his name as I make my way up the stairs, not wanting to startle him. I hear a shuffling from his room and light bleeds into the upstairs hallway through the gap under his door. He throws it open a few seconds later, hair tousled from sleep and eyes still a little unfocused.

 

“Oh, I woke you,” I say. So much for pre-wedding jitters. Apparently the groom had none of those, and meanwhile, it feels like butterflies are multiplying by the minute in my stomach.

 

He manages a grin and leans back against the doorframe. “You know I’m not allowed to see you until tomorrow, right?”

 

“It is tomorrow. Technically.”

 

“Well all right, in that case…”

 

I laugh softly, still rooted in my spot, in case Effie decides to make a reappearance in my conscience and I decide I do care about silly superstitions after all. Peeta raises an eyebrow.

 

“Are you coming to bed, or do you plan on camping outside my door until the ceremony?”

 

I give him my best scowl. “Keep talking like that and I may change my mind about marrying you.”

 

He chuckles and pushes himself off the frame, then holds out his hand for me. “We can’t have that, can we?”

 

I let him lead me inside, where I readily climb in next to him, pulling up the blankets all the way to my chin. I hear him laugh as he wraps his arms around me, cocooning me in his warmth, his steadiness—everything I’ve come to rely on for so long now. It almost scares me, how much I depend on this. How much I risk losing if I ever lost him. The many times I’ve already come too close to losing him.

 

In all of our years together, he’s developed a sixth sense of when I’m nursing a fear, when there’s a nightmare that’s working its way out of my system, or just beginning to brew under the surface. I know I’m not just imagining his hold growing just a little tighter, and it’s not long before I feel his lips grazing my temple.

 

“Are you having second thoughts?” he whispers. I can hear the apprehension in his voice as he awaits my answer, as though all of this—my certainty over him, over us—could vaporize in an instant. I sense the question that’s died in the back of his throat.

 

_Real or not real?_

 

I grip him even harder. “No.”

 

He lets out a breath. I feel relief flood through him. But I’m as wound up as ever, and I know he feels it.

 

“Katniss, what is it?”

 

A million thoughts jumble in my head, all competing to get out. I’m not sure where to start, except… maybe at the beginning.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

He eases himself off me and levers himself up on his elbow to look down on me. “What kind of question is that?”

 

“Peeta, just answer it. Please.”

 

“Of course I do. You know I do.”

 

“Do you? Love _me_? Not just the good parts of me, but the bad parts of me, too?”

 

“Katniss-”

 

“You know me. You know me better than anyone. You’ve seen the rough edges. You know what I’m capable of—the cruelty and selfishness...”

 

I bring myself up to sitting, pulling my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. He reaches for my hand, but I look away. I don’t want him to see the tears that are rising to the surface.

 

“Do you know what Haymitch said to me once?” I say softly. “He told me I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve you.”

 

“Let me guess, he was drunk.”

 

“It’s not funny!”

 

“I’m not laughing.” He sighs. “Katniss, look at me. Please.”

 

He reaches a hand to cup my cheek and gently turns my head to face him again.

 

“You barely knew me when we were kids,” I say. “And yet you were ready to give your life for me even before we ever stepped in that arena… Why?”

 

“After all this time… you still have to ask the question?”

 

“Tell me.”

 

He touches a lock of my hair that’s fallen into my eyes, running it between his fingers before tucking it behind my ear, then he sighs again.

 

“It’s true that we barely talked. I remember that too. But you’re wrong when you say that I barely knew you.”

 

I start to open my mouth, but he places a finger on my lips before I can protest.

 

“You don’t think I noticed how you were with your sister? Always protecting her and being her rock? How you made sure she was fed, when you barely ate yourself, and how you’d stand up to anyone who was bullying her in the playground… and how you didn’t hesitate to take her place in the reaping?”

 

At the mention of Prim, my throat tightens, and I’m tempted to look away again, but instead I keep my gaze on his, even as my vision begins to blur with fresh tears.

 

“Maybe I have seen you at your worst. But you’ve seen me at mine. And you may be capable of darkness, but you’re every bit as capable of light—I’ve seen that, too. And I’ve seen your strength and your courage and your sheer will to live.” He takes a deep breath, as though to steady himself. “You ask me why I love you, Katniss? That’s why. And I think… maybe it’s time you started believing it for yourself.”

 

He brings a hand to my cheek once again, fanning the tears away. I catch a glimpse of the clock on his nightstand. It blinks 2:00. In less than twelve hours, we’ll be standing in front of a small circle of our family and friends, exchanging simple vows and building a fire for our first official toast as husband and wife. And for the first time since I finally admitted to myself once and for all that I was in love with Peeta Mellark—that maybe I’ve always been, in one way or another, ever since he tossed me that loaf of bread that saved my life—I actually feel worthy of his love.

 

I lean over to kiss him, my face still wet from my tears, and feel him smile against my mouth.

 

“So we have an agreement, right?” he says, when we finally part and sink back down onto the pillows. “Neither of us is going to tell Effie that we saw each other before the wedding.”

 

I laugh, nestling even more closely into his body. “It’s a deal.”


End file.
